02 January 2017

Thucydides wrote that Themistocles' greatness lay in the fact that he realized Athens was not immortal. I think we have to realize that Canada is not immortal; but, if it is going to go, let it go with a bang rather than a whimper.

— Pierre Elliott Trudeau, 30 March 1988

Beginning our sesquicentennial year with a novel imaging Canada's demise might be an odd choice were it not for the deafening roar heard from south of our border. How long before the first major fuck-up of the Trump presidency? I'm betting on this month.

The fuck-up described in this debut novel is monumental. The CIA manages to recruit a brilliant Red Army computer analyst, tasks him with testing the security of the Soviet's "fail-safe computer firing program", and then forgets he ever existed.

Bureaucracy is to blame, which isn't to say that there aren't benefits to be had.

Two SS-9s head for American bases in Montana and North Dakota, and the Soviets can do nothing to stop them. Their Premier alerts the President of the United States of the situation, but is unable to convince him that it is all a mistake. Fortunately, Trump the President knows nothing of the Bible and so cannot recall the quotation used in the nuclear code ("Unto God would I commit my cause." – Job 5:8). Unfortunately – for Canada – the U.S. Strategic Missile Command manages to intercept both missiles, resulting in nuclear explosions above Edmonton and southern Saskatchewan.

One million people die.

Within two weeks, the number triples. It grows exponentially as children succumb to leukaemia, their elders shed skin and hair, and Canadians of all ages are sprayed repeatedly with Agent Orange.

After the Prime Minister's plane goes down on a return flight from Washington, the United States takes advantage of misplaced Soviet guilt. Its military moves north on the pretence of securing American-owned industry, while right-wing vigilantes with ties to the CIA take to the streets. Bookstore owners are beaten, and left-leaning student leaders are strung up on the rafters of Varsity Stadium.

Were it not so dense, I'd consider this 108-page "Novel by Ian Adams" a novella; were it not so complex, I might be dismissive. The Trudeau Papers is a remarkable and unusual novel. Its title is explained by narrator Alan Jarvis, a former journalist who has been entrusted by fellow members of the resistance to record what has happened since the two SS-9s exploded:

The name seemed to evoke a collective sense of grim irony. Personally, I think there title is unimportant, considering the enormity of what has taken place, and how much of it has been documented. The rather vague explanation for the choice was that as one of the last democratically elected prime ministers, his name symbolized the end of a nation. So be it.

The "vague explanation" works well. Jarvis himself was once a former CIA operative – and it could be that he is still. Nothing in The Trudeau Papers is cut and dry; nothing is black and white. I came to trust him, but not so much that I won't understand your distrust.

The Trudeau Papers takes place sometime after 1975... but when?

And so, on this second day of our sesquicentennial year, a new question arises: Which Trudeau?

Addendum: This post is the second – after my review of Richard Rohmer's Triad – to include the Trudeau quote above. Again, is it not incredible that we once had a prime minister who could speak about Thucydides on Themistocles?

Object and access: A slim novel in orange boards with uncredited dust-jacket, I bought my copy twenty-seven years ago at S.W. Welch in Montreal. Price: $1.00. Eighteen years earlier, this very same copy was a Christmas gift from journalist Peter C. Newman to John Payne. I'm guessing that this is the same John Payne who once served as an adviser to future PM John Turner (and not the man who starred opposite Maureen O'Hara in Miracle on 34th Street).

It appears there was no a second printing. Remarkably, there has never been a paperback edition.

Ranging at prices between US$3.48 and $17.54, eight copies are listed for sale online. Condition is not a factor.

13 comments:

I wonder what makes a man write a whole novel -- even a thin one -- and then give it such a shitty title. What's the thought process here? "Lemme see, I've got nukes and spies and coups and invasions... so I'll want some form of the word "paper" in the title. And I want people to know it's in the future, so I won't call the PM "Trudeau"... that's it!" (Inserts sheet into typewriter, types "Trudeau Papers. A THRILLER." Whips paper out of machine and places on top of manuscript. Leans back in chair with hands behind his head, sighs happily. Done. Then finds bottle of Wite Out, removes words "a thriller." Waits for money to pour in.

First, an apology that I will be repeating ad infinitum: I've only just discovered that for reasons unknown comments were being sent directly to my spam folder.

Second, yes, The Trudeau Papers is a crummy title... and for so many reasons. Speaking to a fellow news junkie over Christmas, I asked whether he remembered the book. He was certain he'd read something called The Trudeau Papers, until I told him it was a novel.

Why that title? Why that cover? I'm certain that the answer to the second question is best explained by adherence to the bottom line.

"How long before the first major fuck-up of the Trump presidency?"It's strange that even though I think Trump is a buffoon, and I fear what he and the new Congress will screw up, I still take umbrage at a critique of the U.S. by someone from another country; even a critique from a neighbor. It's a very odd and uncomfortable feeling that I would want to defend Trump.

According to Worldcat there are two copies of this novel in all of Wisconsin. Both of them at university libraries. At 108 pages I'm really tempted to request the book but I have already built up a pile of TBR items at home.

Apologies, Gerald, for reasons unknown comments were being sent directly to my spam folder.

Further apologies for expecting disaster from your President-elect. I like to think all will go well, but I don't expect so. To think my wife pegs me as an eternal optimist. Please feel free to take swipes at Trudeau, fis!

If I read this now, Brian, I would probably be afraid to get out of bed in the mornings. Especially once Trump is sworn in. Yikes. Bad times are coming that's for sure. But I'm trying to read light. :)

P.S. Upon first reading the title of your book choice, I thought it was a Trudeau memoir. :)

It's a bad title, Yvette, and I don't think the passage of time made it so. The explanation provided was just about the least believable thing. This in a novel in which the American President looks to have had the Canadian Prime Minister killed, and the rest of the western world has little to say.

Much as I dislike Trump I think he is less likely to cause a nuclear war than Hilary would have been. But he is likely to commit other major, as yet unknown, mistakes. But in the US system he has less power than some people fear, although more than enough for me to fear the bad times of which Yvette warns.

By gum, one has to wonder why this one wasn't made into a US telefilm. Surely the sale to CBC or CTV or City would've been immediate! (Still amused by some of the noise about why the series INTELLIGENCE was cancelled...and how it continues to run on US commercial television...if we can stick commercials in it, why are we supposed to care about anything else?)

Thank you, Todd - not only for the comment but for alerting me to the fact that yours and others were going missing.

Even now I think The Trudeau Papers would make great television. Actually, I think it would make even better TV today. Canadian production values are better (or can be) and Shatner is too old to play the lead. That said, I always like seeing Plummer playing PMs.

About Me

A writer, ghostwriter, écrivain public, literary historian and bibliophile, I'm the author of Character Parts: Who's Really Who in CanLit (Knopf, 2003), and A Gentleman of Pleasure: One Life of John Glassco, Poet, Translator, Memoirist and Pornographer (McGill-Queen's, 2011; shortlisted for the Gabrielle Roy Prize). I've edited over a dozen books, including The Heart Accepts It All: Selected Letters of John Glassco (Véhicule, 2013) and George Fetherling's The Writing Life: Journals 1975-2005 (McGill-Queen's, 2013). I currently serve as series editor for Ricochet Books and am a contributing editor for Canadian Notes & Queries. My latest book is The Dusty Bookcase (Biblioasis, 2017), a collection of revised and expanded reviews first published here and elsewhere.